


Broken

by missgnutmeg



Series: Scattered Family Portraits [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:04:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1785025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missgnutmeg/pseuds/missgnutmeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Songfic reflecting on Fingolfin/Ñolofinwë's relationship with his wife, and on his fateful decision to face Morgoth. (Song is "Broken Wings" by Chris de Burgh)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Part of him distantly wondered what Anairë would think of this madness. Truly, he had gone fey to think that he could challenge one of the Valar. However, this was a matter of honour. Desperate and vain, yes, but done for the pride of the Noldor.</p>
<p>He hoped she would understand."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> I've finally decided to bring some of my decades of Tolkien!fic over to AO3. Just the ones I am most fond of though. This series is my sad, sad shit based on my favourite of the Noldor royal lines. I would not recommend reading them all together because you will likely cry. I did when reviewing them for what to post. >.>

Madness. 

It had been great madness to follow Fëanor to these shores. But he could not abandon either his people or his oath. Neither his pride nor his honour would never have allowed him to. Or perhaps it was vanity? Ñolofinwë chided himself. Though he had never been his father’s favourite, he was the people’s favourite and had been king in many of their hearts for long years before he ever was truly given the title.

_These broken wings can take me no further  
I’m lost, and out at sea_

Ñolofinwë was the responsible one. When Fëanor was exiled and their father had chosen to take his side, Ñolofinwë had been the one to accept the responsibility of leadership. King in action, if not title. The people loved and respected him because he loved and respected them.

It hadn’t been easy. Although he had public support, he had very little support from family. If anything, it widened the existing schism that was there. It broke his heart, but he couldn’t just abandon the people. His people.

_I thought these wings would hold me forever  
And on to eternity_

Anairë alone had understood. She never left his side. It was her soft touch and her gentle voice that had kept him sane.

From the outside, they gave the appearance of being regal and noble, almost cold. Ñolofinwë was aware of the whispers that went on, comparing them to statues or ice, suspicions that they were an arranged marriage, doubts that they shared any true love at all. Those rumours had no grounds, however, for their moments alone in their private chambers shared such heat that most would not recognize them as the same couple.

Their love was strong, and ran deep as an underground river. In the same way, they felt it, hidden from the eyes of others but true and firm. They felt great pride in each other, and in their children. Together they built a strong family. Solid as the statues they were sometimes accused of being.

_And far away I can hear your voice  
I can hear it in the silence of the morning_

He remembered when he had finally told Anairë about leaving. That conversation had been avoided for as long as he could put it off, but Ñolofinwë had never been able to hide much from her. She simply knew him too well.

“Nolo?” She had spoken softly to him, coming up beside him and slipping her arm around his. Anairë said nothing else, though, she simply led him outside to the garden where they walked together in comforting silence.

It had been raining that morning, but just a little. Soft droplets clung to their hair and skin as they walked together.

Finally, Ñolofinwë broke the silence with words just loud enough to hear. “I have to follow him. I’ve no choice. I swore an oath before Manwë that I would follow my brother.”

“You believe it to be folly.” It was no question. Anairë studied her husband’s face, lifting a hand to brush away some raindrops. “But you are a man of honour. I know who I wed and would expect little less from you.”

She tilted her chin up and Ñolofinwë kissed her. Though the kiss spoke much of his deep love for her, it also tasted of his fears and uncertainties which only Anairë would ever see. And she kissed him back though in that moment they both realized she would not travel with him.

_But these broken wings have let me down  
They can’t even carry me home_

He looked at the past with both fondness and regret. Thoughts of Anairë brought him both. And now? Ñolofinwë looked at the letter in his hands again, seeing the defeat of his people looming. Despair filled his soul, and anger. Back in Tirion, Anairë would have given him counsel and cooled his rage.

Here, in the skeletal tower of Barad Eithel, he could hardly even imagine her touch. To imagine her beauty amid the roughly hewn stone seemed heresy of the worst kind. No, he must face things alone. Though even that strength, the strength to be alone, he felt that he drew from her.

_In broken dreams that keep me from sleeping  
I remember all the things I said_

“Atar?” The voice of his eldest son broke his musings and Ñolofinwë looked up. “What news? Is it bad?”

Findekáno took after his father in many ways, sharing much of the same temperament, though he seemed to be more even-minded. He was like a flat, frozen pond while Ñolofinwë was the ice that could crack dangerously beneath your feet without warning. Here was a child a father could be proud of. A strong heir to inherit the throne once the time came.

Ñolofinwë crushed the letter in his hands in anger and threw it across the room. Findekáno retrieved the crumpled paper to read it.

_Well I’ve broken all the promises  
I said I would be keeping_

Ñolofinwë rose from the desk he’d been sitting at. His blood boiled within him but his icy countenance never changed. Son and brother but he’d failed his family. High-King but he’d failed his people. Husband but he’d failed his wife. Father but he was about to fail his sons. “I’m leaving.”

Findekáno looked up from the letter, his eyes slightly misted with tears. “Leaving? But atar they’ll nee-“

“No.” He cut off his son. “They need a hero. Like you. Someone valiant and strong. Someone who will take risks for them.”

“Adar, you’re a wise and respected leader. This isn’t your fault. We can-“

Again, Ñolofinwë cut him off, though with a warning tone in his voice this time. “Findekáno. I need to do this. For our people, for their honour. I will not let that coward continue to hide.”

His son’s eyes were filled suddenly with fear as he began to realize his father’s mood. “Atar, no. That is suicide. Don’t leave me, I need you.” The fear had left his eyes and trembled into his usually strong voice.

_They’re gone, like leaves they fell  
For it’s so hard when you’re far away_

The rage and despair boiled hot in Ñolofinwë’s soul. Even his son could not change his mind now. “I’m leaving. If I don’t return, you are High-King.” The look he gave his son spoke of his deep pride and love, but also revealed the emotions that pushed him to this decision. Findekáno knew better than to refuse.

“Aye, adar.” He straightened his shoulders, his demeanor becoming that of the prince – soon to be king – that he was.

_All I needed was a shoulder I could cry on_  
Now these broken dreams have woken me  
My love, will you carry me home 

The silence grew between them. Both realized the hopelessness of Ñolofinwë’s choice. Still, Findekáno helped his father to polish his armor and weaponry to its most radiant. The High-King of the Noldor would go down with the brightness of a falling star.

Findekáno was aware of his father’s gaze as he helped him to put on the bright mail. In fact, the intensity of it unnerved him. “What is it, atar?” Words seemed strange to him, now, as he looked at his father who was already a ghost in too many ways.

“I’m remembering you, Findekáno. It is my deepest hope that we will not see each other again for a very long time.”

_Or will you treat me like some traveller  
On a dark and lonely road_

Ñolofinwë allowed himself one last look at his eldest son before he mounted his horse, one final touch of those dark locks inherited from his mother. Anairë. She would be so proud to see the man her son had become.

That thought made him angry, again. Anairë would not get to see her son as he was now, because of Morgoth’s treachery. Morgoth’s lies had stolen his family away from him. First Fëanor and his father, and then his wife, and even his daughter-in-law, all had been taken from him by that monster.

A kick to the flank caused his horse to take off at a gallop. The rapid pace reflected his cold fury.

_Who sees a light and a woman who will give him love  
Oh and just when she reaches the part_

Once, far too long ago, Anairë had teased him about his temper. She had called him the deadly chill, for the way he would snap like a sudden frost and then thaw slowly. Though they both knew her warm hands could melt his iciness every time.

_When she’s supposed to comfort his broken heart  
She turns away, and sends him travelling on_

All dark things that stood in Ñolofinwë’s path trembled and fled. None could bare the icy blast of his rage. He passed through all the lands of Morgoth unchallenged, his armor glittering like a star on a winter’s night.

So many times through his life he had been compared to the cold, the ice, but could such things burn with the rage and despair that now touched him? His anger scalded him, and he felt that he burned too bright – like the candle about to be extinguished. Had he ever been so rash before?

Heat melts the ice. Soon it would be gone.

_Oh when I left I believed that nothing would go wrong  
I thought the whole world would be waiting for my story_

The darkness of Morgoth closed in about him, but Ñolofinwë seemed to shine with an icy light in his rage. He did not pause and felt no fear. Time was no longer his ally as he raced on. Rochallor puffed beneath him, the poor horse giving everything for his master. That didn’t matter to Ñolofinwë anymore, though. Neither of them would ever see the light again.

Damn him if Morgoth wouldn’t pay for that, too.

Finally he stopped before the dark gates of Angband and he banged upon them as he had once before. This time, though, he would not turn away unheeded. Though it was foolhardy, Ñolofinwë would fight with Morgoth and deliver by hand injuries in reparation for those the Noldor had received.

_Take me back, my love, I need you now  
Come back and carry me home_

Part of him distantly wondered what Anairë would think of this madness. Truly, he had gone fey to think that he could challenge one of the Valar. However, this was a matter of honour. Desperate and vain, yes, but done for the pride of the Noldor.

He hoped she would understand.

_Take me back and heal these broken wings  
Come back and carry me home_

“Morgoth! You father of lies! Sniveling coward! Come out and face me, if you dare be so bold!” And Ñolofinwë waited for death to come through those gates in the guise of a terrible dark lord. But he was not afraid. Death would only take him home.


End file.
